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"Verses, too!" cried Margaret Howes. "Verses on every one of them. Read them aloud, everybody in turn. Hurry up and get them all together.",

Patricia studied her with eager interest. The bride of half a year was still a bride to her, and the transformation of the limp, bedraggled art student into this languid, elegant young lady was an affair that had its beginnings at Greycroft, for it was under that hospitable roof that Mr. Bingham had first seen Miss Auborn. In the merry Babel of the studio party Mrs. Bingham held her own with a calm assurance that Miss Auborn had not possessed, and when Mr. Bingham, pink and smiling as ever and just a bit more bald, joined them, the air of mild authority with which she welcomed that gentleman impressed Patricia even more strongly.,

"My lord and gentlemen of the jury, you have heard the evidence of the crown, which makes out that my client is guilty. That evidence is wrong, as can be proved by one witness. I am the witness. In my rooms there is lying a confession, signed and witnessed, which sets forth that I am the guilty person. It was I, not Dr. Etwald, who murdered Maurice Alymer." (Sensation in the court.) "Yes. I was in love with Miss Dallas, and therefore was jealous of Maurice. I knew that Dido possessed the devil-stick--how, it does not matter--and I bribed her to give it to me. I pretended to go to London on the night of the murder, but instead of doing so I remained in the grounds of Mrs. Dallas, where I obtained the devil-stick from Dido. I saw Maurice meet with Miss Dallas. I saw them kiss and part. Inflamed by jealousy, I rushed after him and met him on the road. He turned in surprise, and flung out his arms to keep me off. The devil-stick, with its poison fang protruding, was in my grasp, and in throwing out his arm I wounded him in the palm of the hand, thus--",

"Time for bed, mama dear," she said clearly. "I've got your ginger tea ready for you, and I guess it's the last you'll want this year." In a lower tone she explained to the others: "Just brewed it to make her feel more at home, you know. She doesn't need it in this fiery furnace of a place."

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Patricia gave a gasp. "But he wore a turban and great whiskers!" she said, impulsively. "How in the world could you stand that?",

Mrs. Shelly went on with her knitting, but Patricia, who was mending a long rent in her best blouse, looked up with eager interest.,

"Yet you risked death for the same woman.",

Judith looked wise. "I know how she feels," she declared, sagely. "I get awfully excited when I write something good. Why, sometimes I cry, I'm so happy about it, and I jump up and down, too, all by myself."